


A mathematician and a sniper walk into a bar

by thecat_13145



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: M/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a mathematician and a sniper walk into a bar, or Ian and Amita discussing the Eppes Brothers</p>
            </blockquote>





	A mathematician and a sniper walk into a bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cerealkiller0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerealkiller0/gifts).



> _Notes/Warnings:_ Spoilers for Sniper Zero.  
>  Written for and betaed by [](http://cerealkiller0.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cerealkiller0.livejournal.com/)**cerealkiller0**

  
  
Ian knew he was delaying.    
  


He had finished the required paperwork nearly two hours ago and done a lot of the paperwork that the Team leader was supposed to do in these situations.

He had cleaned and rechecked his gun, as though he’d made the shot kneeling the mud of the Mississippi, rather than a roof top in LA.

There were no excuses left. Don wasn’t coming, and he needed to be on the road. As far as his superiors were concerned, he should have being out of there once they realised it was a sniper epidemic, rather than a serial sniper, and the fact that Don and his team had managed to solve 9 murders in 48 hours was irrelevant.

There was a former Special forces out in Miami, living off the grid, who was suspected in at least 12 rape and murders. He needed to hit the road.

The elevator doors opened. Don walked into the bullpen.

“Oh Hey.”

Ian nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the zip of his carry all, even though he knew it was fine because he oiled it while waiting for Don.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.” He wants to tell Don where he’s going, ask his opinion about what the fugitive was going to do. But that man is gone.

“I just wanted to say, Thanks. For you know, Charlie.”

Ian shrugged, throwing the bag over one shoulder. “No problem.”

They both stood in silence for a moment, before Don swore.

“This is crazy. Kim’s right, if Terri and I can be partners, then you and I should-”

Ian cut across a flush of anger rising in his chest.“Difference is, Don, Terri always brought into your bullshit.” The bullpen is deserted, and the words feel like a shout across the room. “Kim and I never did.”

He pushed past Don, jabbing at the button for the elevator, whose doors thankfully opened immediately. He travelled down, feeling Don’s stare burning into his back.

As the cool of the LA night air hit him, Ian made a choice.

Screw the fugitive in Miami, he needed a fucking drink

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Amita examined the vodka in her glass, watching the way the light passed through it. She was drunk enough to think it pretty, instead of calculating the angles of refraction, but not drunk enough for what she wanted.

She swallowed the shot in one, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Can I get another one of these?”

The bartender, who barely looked old enough to be out of high school, and boy, did that make her feel old, looked uncertain. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

She knows that she probably has when she replies “No, I want to get drunk. I want to get so drunk that I forget I ever heard the name Eppes!”

“Sounds like a plan.” She spun around to see the strange agent from Don’s office standing there. “You want some company?”

She laughed. “I’m flattered, but-”

“I’m not hitting on you.” She watched as the other man sat down beside her, briefly shaking his head. “Not my type.”

She paused, wondering if there was insult in there, as the strange man caught the bartender’s eye. “What she’s drinking.”

The bartender paused, taking in the other man. He then decided that it would probably be more dangerous not to serve this guy than to serve him. He placed a small shot glass in shot of him and filled it up.

The strange agent lifted the glass. “Ian Edgerton.”

“Amita Ramanujan.” She transferred her drink and shook his hand. It was as she held it, that it clicked. “You’re the sniper.”

Ian snorted. “Basically. Fifth best shot in the country.”

“Wow” she shook her head, trying to come up with something better to say. In the interval, Ian took a sip.

She had the image that she would treasure for a long time of seeing Ian Edgerton, FBI sniper exoridinare cough and spluttering and swearing in five languages as he spat out the liquid.

“How can you bloody drink that? Tastes like horse piss.”

“Have you actually drunk that?” Something flickered across Ian’s face, making her regret the question. “And you should try going out with the chemistry students. Some of the stuff they make up is illegal in 10 states.” 

Ian shrugged. “Drank worse. And it’s just not what I’ve have expected you to be drinking”

“What would you expect me to be drinking agent Edgerton?”She leaned back, deliberately smoothing her sweater over her chest. Ian didn’t bat an eyelid. “You look like a Tequila girl.”

“Student, Agent Edgerton. Student who plans to get very drunk.” She held up her shot glass. 

Edgerton snorted.  “Yeah, well if you’re going to be drinking yourself under the table to forget Eppes, at least let me buy you something decent”

He signalled to the barman.

/**//*/*/*/*/*/*

After Kim Hall had sobbed on his chest for two hours, Ian had vowed he was done. No more comforting girls who had got Don Eppes under their skin.

And yet here he was, sitting at a small table in a bar in LA with a girl who just above jail bait and who had had more than enough to drink.

He shrugged internally. His sisters always said he was a sucker for tears.

“Fucking Charlie Eppes.”

He blinked. “Right.” The girl didn’t look like Don’s usual type not that would have stopped her having a crush on him. Instead, it seemed it was the brother who had her attention.

“Keep forgetting there’s two of them.”

She looked at him cautiously over the top of her drink. “You don’t like Charlie, really do you?”

He knows that he’s drunker than he should be when he answers her. “Didn’t. Was completely prepared to hate him. Now,” He shrugged. “He’s not too bad.”

“Why?”

He sighed thinking about him and Don, about Kim, about how the man he knew at Quantico, the man he knew at Albuquerque and the one he met today.

“He’s a symptom, not the disease.” He thinks about three thin lines on Don’s stomach, scars that according to the book he snagged from the CSI in New York were most probably made by a diamond ring cutting across flesh when it was young.

Amita still looked confused. Ian sighed again.

“Don is a great agent.” He was gambling, he was prepared to admit that, that she’d be too drunk to remember this in the morning, but it didn’t seem to matter. “You don’t believe me? Guy went from three years in fugitive recovery, to teaching at Quantico, to running a full field office” he shook his head. “You don’t do that unless you’re good. ‘Cept he won’t believe it.” He paused, swinging the drink around in the cup. “ Albuquerque  didn’t want to let him go. Said he should consider it as a leave of absence, take as long as he needed. Don was the one who pushed about the transfer.”

“Was that why Kim broke it off?”

Ian didn’t ask how she knew about Kim. From Don’s comments he could guess she’d being here recently. “Nah. Things were over between them for a long time before his mum got sick, just neither of them had the guts to call it off.”

Kim had told him that when she’d got drunk and sob on his shoulder, admitting that Don leaving was a relief. They could sort out the pieces of their lives. It had being a broken thing, but he knew it had still hurt both of them.

“In the end, I think they were both secretly relieved. Team wasn’t though, most of them are still mad with Don for abandoning them.” He glanced her. “Don tends to make things at work personal, and as the professor took my advice, I guess he’s the same.”

“Just where impressing his big brother is concerned.” 

And Don wanted to include Charlie, being willing to act dumber to get that. Ian shook his head at the screwed up situation and poured them both another shot.

//*/*/*/**//**/*/*/*/*/*/*

“Why?” Amita asked, “What is it about them?”

Ian shrugged, sipping at his own drink. He was drunk enough that there was a nice buzz in his head, but not as drunk as his companion.

“I mean look at me.” She waved her hand up and down her body, spilling her drink down it. “I’m pretty aren’t I?”

Ian didn’t say anything, mainly because he guessed he wasn’t supposed to. “I get asked out two, three times a week, and am I interested? No.”

She sighed, swirling her drink around the glass. “Rachel says I’m an idiot. That I only want Charlie because he’s what I’m supposed to want.”

Ian shrugged. “Do you?”

Amita laughed. “He’s my thesis advisor, he’s not Indian, not Hindu, my parents would hate him.” She sighed. “But none of that seems to matter.” She sighed in a humph.

“It’s not like the first one really matters. Everyone knows that Professor Sandwell has being having it off with her students, and some think that  Fleinhardt does. Well,” She corrected herself, “Those who believe that  Fleinhardt actually knows what sex is.”

Ian shrugged. If he could condense what it was about Don that made him keep coming back, then he could fix it, stop it. But thus far, he couldn’t.

“You’ve got one advantage.” He pointed out, before he could stop the words coming out. “You’re what he’s supposed to want.”  
And Ian was absolutely nothing like that.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

“I should be writing my thesis.” Amita was slurring her words together and Ian had ordered water as well as more tequila last time he was up at the bar. Girl was so drunk she wouldn’t know the difference.

“And I’m supposed to be Miami” He glanced at her. “Guess we’re both not good at doing what we should do where the Eppes brothers are concerned.”

The bar was emptying fast, only a few determined regulars sticking it out, mostly clustered around the jukebox. Occasionally the words filtered across to their table.

He groaned at the words “Doesn’t love me back.”  
“Great. Even the music is mocking me.”  
Amita stared at him. “So you and Don were....?” 

He sighed. “Yeah. Quantico.”

“So you’re gay.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah.”

“But I thought him and Kim...”

Ian shrugged. “Bisexual, though I don’t know if that’s how Don would describe himself.” He’s drunk enough not care if he sounds pathetic when he muttered. “I love him.”

Amita reached out, taking his hand and squeezing it. There’s pity in her eyes, which would normally be enough for Ian to beat her into a pulp, but also understanding. He doesn’t think she can really understand how much it hurts him to watch Don tear himself up, trying to be the man his family want him to be, and the man he is, trying to unite the wants and expectations of both. But she’s trying and that counts for a lot at that time of night.

And it’s that last thought that makes him realize that they have both had more than they should have to drink and it’s time to go.

They’re both too drunk to drive, and he was trying to remember if there was enough money in his bag for cab fare (and realizing that he had absolutely no idea where Amita lived, which was going to make things uncomfortable), when the young bartender from earlier tapped him on the shoulder.

“Your cab's waiting.” 

He blinked, feeling stupid.

“I didn’t-”

The bartender shrugged. “Policy. Plus, I know her.” He flushed. “My brother’s got the biggest crush on her. He’d never forgive me if she didn’t get home safe.”

“Right.” He turned his attention back to Amita. “Think you can stand up?”

Amita shot him an ugly look. “I am not that drunk.”

It would have being a lot more impressive if she could stand up.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**/

“Don’t think you’re forgiven for ditching us last night!”Amita’s head felt like someone was driving a railroad spike through it, and her mouth felt thick and fuzzy. “Though Angela and I are pleased you took our advice.”

She blinked in the direction of her roommate. “Huh?”

“Well, do you have any other explanation for the gorgeous man passed out on the couch when we came back, who is now making breakfast in our kitchen.”

Rachel’s eyes were sparkling, as she held out (thank you all the deities) two tylenol and a glass of water. 

“Got to hand it to you Amita, you’ve got good taste. First the cutest professor on campus, and now the gorgeous hunk of manhood in the kitchen.”

Ian, she shot up, ignoring the room still spinning around and grabbed for her robe. Some part of her registered that she was still dressed in the same outfit she worn last night, but she wasn’t really bothered.

“Don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Rachel called after her. “Angela was trying for about half an hour and he’s not biting.”

“He’s gay.” She shot back, hurrying into the kitchen to see Ian Edgerton, shirtless, frying what smelt like eggs and sausages. Angela was sitting at the breakfast bar, clearly enjoying the view.

“Ian.” He turned around. “Last night, I mean did I?”

Ian chuckled, returning his attention back to the eggs.“Just threw up on my shirt, which your roommate has very kindly offered to get washed for me.”

Angela simpered, fluttering her eyelids at Ian. Ian ignored her. Amita shot Angela her best “Leave him alone, he’s not interested” look and sat down, watching as Ian carefully served up breakfast. He glanced her.

“I’ve called a cab,” he said slowly, “To take me back to the bar.”

“We walked there.” Amita volunteered, answering the unasked question. Ian nodded, returning to his eggs and bacon. Both Angela and Rachel were shooting her looks to get his number or go back with him or do something.“Do you want...I mean I don’t think many laundomats will be open this early.”

Ian paused, tore a piece off the pad kept by the fridge (officially for shopping lists, but more frequently filled with doodles) and scribbled down an address. “Sent it here, it’ll reach me.”

A part of her wanted to protest at the idea of Ian walking home shirtless, then she remembered that he was about to leave town and probably had another one in his bag or something. She glanced at Rachel.  
“Can you guys...?”

“We’ll leave you alone. “Rachel grinned. “Come on Angie.”

Angela looked like she wanted to protest, but she got to her feet and followed Rachel out.

Amita sighed. “Ian, I...”

Ian shook his head. “Look, last night...just forget it O.K.?” it would have being better if it didn’t sound so pleading. “Just do your thesis, get some distance between you and the professor and he’ll ask you out. O.K.?”

She nodded. “O.K. and Ian?” he turned his head to look at her. “Don’t give up on Don. I think he wants you, he’s just...” She shrugged.“Scared.”

She watched something flicker across Ian’s face, before it resumed its normal expression. “Right.” He began folding up the blanket Rachel or Angela must have spread over him in the night (and it was probably Rachel, she did the motherly things like that). Amita paused, and suddenly tore her own slither of paper off the pad and scribbled down her cell phone number.

“Here,” She said, handing it over. “Just so you that there’s someone out there, being equally irritated by the Eppes men.”

She expected Ian to throw the paper away, but instead he folded it up, put it in a jean pocket and muttered something that might have being “Thanks”, before heading down to the cab. Fortunately that meant he missed both Angela and Rachel squealing and high fiving each other.

  



End file.
